


Wannabe Vaporeon

by GayAquarius



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Identity Issues, POV First Person, POV: Pokemon, Pokemon Battle, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayAquarius/pseuds/GayAquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most Pokemon have a strict evolutionary path with no branches, if they evolve at all. Despite this, certain Pokemon go against this norm. Eevee is the biggest example of this, having 8 known evolutions.</p><p>For the most part, Pokemon are fine with the evolution their trainer chooses for them. But what about when they aren't? This is the case for Ember, a Flareon forced into evolving that way against her will. Ember is constantly haunted by the fact that she'll never be the Vaporeon she always wanted to be, and after a while, it gets to be too much to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Past

**Author's Note:**

> Please be warned that the ending is NOT HAPPY. Don't say I didn't warn you. I don't want to go into too much detail so it'll be a surprise, but if it's a feel good story you're looking for, it's probably best you go elsewhere.
> 
> This is a bit more rambly than some of my other stories. It's supposed to represent an internal monologue. Hope you enjoy!

I always liked to sleep, because when I’m asleep, I can dream. And in my dreams, I have a gorgeous mermaid tail and fins rather than thick, uncomfortable fur that keeps me too warm for my liking and an ugly, bushy tail. I was destined to be a Vaporeon. Not this.

I was doomed from the start. The minute I was captured by some wannabe fire type gym leader, my fate was sealed in all of its ugliness. Instead of fighting his Charmander, I should have run. I should have bolted in the other direction, never to see this human again. But I didn’t, and I paid the price. Once he caught me, he nicknamed me “Ember”. It only reminds me of what I am, and what I never could be. Even as an Eevee, he called me by this distinctly fiery nickname. 

I remember him taking out his fire stone, and how revolted I felt just looking at it. It represented the end of my uncertainty, plunging into a future I didn’t want. My heart pounded within my chest. The berries I ate earlier began to disagree with me, my stomach rumbling. I didn’t want this, and it manifested in every part of my body.

He pressed the yellow and orange stone to my fur. With all of my might, I resisted its effects. My brain was overtaken by internal monologue about the fact that I didn’t want to evolve, that I refused to evolve, and that nobody could force me to be something I’m not.

This worked… at first. My trainer became frustrated at my refusal. I didn’t back down. I kept resisting. I closed my eyes and imagined myself as a Vaporeon, and that strengthened my resolve. Once again, the fire stone didn’t work. My trainer’s annoyance grew.

“What the hell, Ember?” He sounded sounded more peeved than truly exasperated when he uttered these words. His later actions would come to disprove this.

I wish his reaction to me refusing to walk down the path he paved for me was releasing me back into the wild. I wish he realized it was a lost cause and dumped me like the trash I am. That would have been less painful than the reality of what he did instead.

He kicked me. Knocked me off my paws. From the ground, I saw the way he towered over me, a looming threat. I was in no position to act defiant towards a creature who was a hulking giant in comparison to me, someone who could do something much more severe than kick me to the ground. Either I could accept the fate he had preselected for me, or something far worse would happen.

I wish, in retrospect, that I had stood my ground. I didn’t realize until it was too late that the misery of being trapped in the wrong body and species prevailed over whatever my trainer would have done. But it’s too late to take it back. It’s not like a Pokemon can evolve in reverse. I would do anything for a do over, but it would defy the laws of the universe.

When he pressed the fire stone against my fur, I let it happen. It broke me. I felt my body rapidly morph into something that opposed what I wanted it to be. I felt warmth that wasn’t cozy. I didn’t want warmth. I wanted to swim in cool, refreshing lakes. I wanted sleek blue scales instead of the disgusting coat of burned orange that now covered me. I wanted something I could officially never have.

Using fire moves was almost more painful than being a Flareon in of itself. Fire shouldn’t be coming from me. It isn’t right. Ground and rock types shouldn’t be able to defeat me as easily as I do. And even though I know deep down that I’m a fire type, I can’t help but cower when I see grass types. I can defeat them quite easily, but they should be more of a challenge.

I’ve been a Flareon for long enough to grow accustomed. By now, I should be used to the body I occupy, even if it’s not the one I originally wanted. However, I’ve had no such luck. 


	2. Now

One day, my trainer grows tired of the fact that I lag behind the rest of his team in terms of strength. He can never be a gym leader with such a weak Pokemon, he says. We’ll be training plenty today, he says.

Deep within the woods, my trainer sends me out against grass type after grass type. Most of them don’t provide much fight and I can take them down with one flamethrower. Others are harder. I can’t count how many Pokemon I’ve battled, and I shudder to think of how many more he’ll have me fight before he’s had his fill. When will I be strong enough for him?

My legs start to buckle beneath me, and I grow tired. My trainer’s commands increase in their hostility. A hesitation in using the right move resulted in a brutal tongue lashing. I just want to quit.

Although I had considered giving up for a while, my breaking point is unexpected. It was after he sends me out against a Bellsprout. Bellsprout is not a strong Pokemon. Its defenses are paper thin. I’ve battled many today and each one went down in a single hit, no problem. I could listen to my trainer and torch this poor Bellsprout to a crisp. Then, we’d move onto the next victim. The problem is, I don’t want to.

“Ember, use flamethrower!”

I know that refusing will not end well for me. I saw what my trainer was capable of when I resisted evolving into Flareon for his own pleasure. I stood my ground. Despite the opening I left, the Bellsprout didn’t attack.

“Ember, what are you doing? Use flamethrower!”

His yell hurt my ears. I could easily resolve this situation by using flamethrower, but once again, I didn’t. The Bellsprout was docile and left me be. There was something resembling pity in the eyes of my “foe”.

“Ember, if you don’t use flamethrower right now…” He no longer screamed. His voice lowered, but his threat to me didn’t. I hear his footsteps come from behind me, crunching leaves beneath his feet. I realize in that moment I had one option, and it was to run. So that I do.

I sprint as fast as my paws will take me. Although I’m putting all of my effort into running, it’s clear Flareon as a species wasn’t built for speed. I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t care. As long as it’s away from my trainer, the details don’t matter. I hear my trainer’s booming, enraged voice grow muffled in the distance.

After a while, the woods cleared out. I reached a clearing. The sun is shining, the sky is a calming shade of baby blue, and the clouds are white and puffy. It’s a picture perfect day. Despite this, I found myself feeling more depressed than before. In the distance, I see a lake.

As I approach the lake, I try to take deep breaths. All the running I did drained my energy. My heart continues to hammer within my chest, and at some points I’m not entirely convinced I won’t collapse on the spot. I keep walking. It’s all I can do. If I lay down now, I’ll never get up.

When I reach the lake, I stare into it, fascinated. I see my reflection in the clear water: ugly colored fur, awkwardly oversized ears, complete with a ridiculous tuft of fur on the top to finish off my embarrassment of a look. It should be a Vaporeon looking back at me.

I hit the water with my paw, wanting the water to ripple and distort the image so I no longer have to look at myself. However, it doesn’t go as planned when I trip, falling face first into the lake. The water felt uncomfortable, unnatural. It shouldn’t feel that way. It should feel normal.

I’m so tired that pulling myself out of the lake seemed like a waste of effort. I know deep in my heart that if my resolve to live was strong enough, I could save myself… but I don’t. I accept my fate with a level of calmness that most would envy in the face of death.

I can’t stay afloat forever. I should panic as I begin to sink, but I don’t. I had already made up my mind, so I feel little fear. Instead, I feel like I’m coming home. I didn’t think this was going to be how it ended. I think about my life, and what it could have been if I was never caught by a selfish, sorry excuse for a trainer.

I found myself wishing pain on my trainer, and I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. I hoped no other poor Pokemon was subjected to his wrath to fill in my place, but it was inevitable. He’d replace me like a pair of socks with holes in it. It would be an emotionless, unceremonious act.

It isn’t long before I’m completely submerged. I see the fish Pokemon swim around me, turning their attention away from what was happening before them. I close my eyes.

If reincarnation is what waits in my afterlife, I hope I’m a water type next. It doesn’t have to be Vaporeon. I imagine being a graceful Milotic. Even if it meant going through an awkward phase as Feebas, it would be worth it. I then imagine being a mysterious Frillish, with the bonus of unnerving humans with a ghost subtyping and hopefully scaring them away from catching me. Finally, I imagine being the playful Oshawott. Maybe I’d be given to a young trainer who cares, who wouldn’t force me into a choice I wanted nothing to do with because it’s what they wanted. Do trainers like that even exist? I guess I’ll never know.

At this point, I can no longer focus on my thoughts. My lungs are burning from the lack of air. Drowning is not a peaceful way to go. Nonetheless, I'm happy to die how I should have lived: in water.


End file.
